


Circling, Circling

by 3isme



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Character Death, Bittersweet Ending, Child Death, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Space Accident, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25604017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3isme/pseuds/3isme
Summary: It’s about a set of tangled complications and thoughts that spin, spin, and spin in his head. It’s about unsaid assumptions and unsalvageable situations.And maybe, at the end of it all, it’s about finding peace together underneath an unfamiliar, darkening sky.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55
Collections: JayDick Summer Exchange 2020





	Circling, Circling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cryzice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryzice/gifts).



He'd dropped hints, here and there, and then more obviously. He'd spoken to Barbara. Asked Kory and Roy. Even questioned Wallace.

It shouldn't take forever for Dick to ask if he was interested. It's not something Dick is _normally_ shy about. It's been years since he and Dick first got together, and now Jason's wondering what it is about himself that's stopping Dick from asking. If there's something undesirable about Jason that's stopping them from taking the next step in their relationship.

Donna had said that the hesitance on Dick's part is not her place to explain, that Jason should ask Dick about it instead. And Jason wonders if he would know what it is that's causing this uncrossable chasm between them if he hadn't been absent during the intervening years between his death, resurrection, and re-emergence in the hero community.

He glances at the ring balanced on his palm, red and blue intertwined, set in silver. He wants Dick in his life. For the rest of his life, that's why he bought the ring. But... he can't shake the suspicion that Dick doesn't really want to spend the rest of his life with him. Jason knows he's not good enough. Dick hasn't made that first advance, so Jason is sure if he asks, Dick will reject him. Jason swallows painfully, then shakes his head clear of those thoughts.

Not good enough, _yet_. Eventually, Jason will find out what's wrong with himself, and he will fix it, and he will ask Dick to marry him, or Dick will ask Jason, and he will not be afraid of losing what he's got. He refuses to be afraid to hope for the future, even though hope is what had hurt the most every time he'd run up against inevitable failure in his past. Jason steels himself, weary but determined. This time, it will be different.

Step one: figure out what's wrong

Step two: fix it

Step three: marry the love of his life

But he'll start _after_ this mission. For now, there are kids to rescue, family and teammates to tolerate, and intergalactic kidnappers to foil. He tucks the ring into his bedside dresser. Out of sight, out of mind.

He preps his gear, packs his hope into a neat little box tucked tight in his heart, and gets ready to join the rest of the family at the manor.

But when he leaves, he can't stop himself from nabbing the small circlet of red, blue, and silver. He swears quietly at himself, still ensnared in worries about personal issues. The ring weighs heavy in his pocket.

***

Massive chunks of ice and stone hurtle by the small spacecraft, sometimes missing the ship by mere inches. Pieces of wreckage from other, destroyed ships ricochet off the hull and fly off into the ice-cold of never-ending space. Although this spaceship has miraculously survived an unwanted trip through the wormhole that just spat it out alongside all this other now life-threatening debris, it's clear that it will not last much longer.

Within the ship, harsh violet flashes every two seconds, lighting up the cockpit in an unsettling mix of dark purple and uncanny ultraviolet glow. Jason grimaces as another intense vibration from the platform under his feet grates up through his legs. Fuck the misfortune that led to them hijacking a ship from the Li'Enas. What selfish hellion of an alien progenitor decided it was a good idea for a sentient species to see in the near ultraviolet? Or hear so low that they use body-shaking vibrations to communicate? Every other self-respecting alien in the known universe has the decency to cover the regular visible spectrum and use audible frequencies. He almost misses the normal, blinding red warning lights and ear-splitting alarms of human ships. He definitely misses his trademark red helmet that would have provided better vision, but he'd had to trade it out for a translucent breathing mask.

Another jolting vibration rattles his bones and Jason yelps, nearly losing his balance, but stays upright through sheer willpower. The steering of this ship is, regrettably, performed using a circular platform beneath his boots that is reminiscent of the world's most sensitive hoverboard, coupled with the counterintuitive feeling of using a human sized gyroscope for the first time. And there. Are. No. Railings.

His hands clench around empty air, useless for the way this ship is designed. It only unsettles him, distracting from _everything more important_. Jason lets out a frustrated shout. He knows he's not good enough yet. Then he takes a deep breath, mentally tracing the interwoven red and blue arcs he's become familiar with, and refocuses. There are scared and injured kids in the back, and he and Dick did not rescue them just to lose them now. Foreign spacecraft or not.

Suddenly, the violet warning lights ratchet up to a frankly terrifying frequency, and Jason spots a flash of metallic rock just before it slams diagonally into the bottom of the ship, sending the spacecraft spinning out of its original path. Jason is tossed off of the steering platform and, once the automatic system kicks-in and rights the ship back up, left scrambling to return to his position. He races against a sizable planet streaked with mostly reds and yellows, fighting to regain control before its heavy-handed gravity gets a hold on them. He fails.

The hit from before must have broken something, and suddenly, nothing is under Jason's control. The giant looms large in his sight, threatening their end as the spaceship is inescapably caught and dragged towards the planet's unyielding surface. The ship plunges headlong into a layer of noxious yellow clouds, falling through the atmosphere and Jason can see nothing but yellow against the flashing dark purples of the warning lights. A crackle in his comms and the first sound he's heard since Dick joined the kids in the back fills his ear.

"Hood, what's going on?" Dick's voice is calm, but Jason can hear its frantic undercurrent.

He hears himself giving an answer, but his mind and eyes are focused outside for any other debris that might be accompanying their fall, maybe he can at least provide a warning - and Jason's breath catches when they break free of the clouds. A brief moment where he catches a glimpse of endless golden waves of swaying grasses far below distant streaks of red and yellow clouds hugging the curve of the horizon. Then the ship is on fire, and Jason knows there's nothing left to do but prepare for the worst.

He stumbles his way towards the back, struggling against the awkward tilt of the floor, and accesses his comm to report, "We're crashing. Estimated time of impact 165 seconds. Atmospheric entry alpha plus 28 degrees, gamma minus 2.5 degrees. Last recorded speed at 25.7 M - all approximated Li'Ena tech readings. Get everyone to brace as far back as possible."

Finally, he bursts into the storage compartment where everyone has taken shelter, allowing the metallic door to slide shut behind him and sealing the room. He sees Dick twist from the small gaggle of kids he's herding to face him.

"Li'Ena ships are pretty strong," Dick says, voice strained, turning back to stare at the children now protected as much as they could be. "We have a chance."

Jason doesn't respond, only staring wordlessly before joining him against the wall. He closes his eyes.

A seemingly interminable wait. _We have a chance_.

Then, impact. It all goes black.

***

His consciousness comes back in tiny increments, and then all at once. He snaps his eyelids open, expecting dark purple light, but bright light stabs into his eyes, and he squeezes his eyes shut immediately, hissing at the throbbing in his head.

"He woke up!" A high-pitched voice, but it’s muffled. The pounding of his brain intensifies, and his eyes tear up. _Shut up, please for all that is holy_. Somehow his mouth struggles to put those sentiments into words. He picks up on the sound of feet slapping against the floor fading away, and a more distant "Mister Red woke up!"

Something pokes at his shoulder, followed by quiet gurgling. _What?_

Gingerly, Jason twitches his fingers, arms, limbs, ignoring the repeated poking, and continuing until he feels accounted for and relatively unhurt, except for bruises that are going to look absolutely awful in a few days and ache even worse. He gets to his head and there is something patched onto his temples and the far left part of his face. _Bandages maybe?_

He lifts an arm over his eyes before he chances opening them again and finds the brightness tolerable. Another poke reminds him of another presence and he tips his head to look at its source. A pair of black, pupil-less eyes blinks clear eyelids back at him, set into a face with a short snout. Ah, one of the rescuees. The child's name is Rippling-flow, at least, according to the Galactic translator built into his comm. He'd have to ask how to properly pronounce it later.

 _Wait, he's hearing outside of his comm?_ He sits up abruptly, suddenly anxious to identify where he is, and accidentally frightens Rippling-flow into letting out a squeak, flippers slapping at his arm. He smooths his palm down the child's furry back, soothing ruffled ego, and reaches up to his left ear with his free hand, meaning to activate the translator to offer an apology, but his fingers meet only the rough fabric of bandages.

"Don't rip those. We don't have many left." Dick's voice sounds from the right, so Jason is startled when he looks right and finds no one, before he remembers that his left ear is blocked and turns back to the left. Jason watches Dick walk out from the shadows into natural light and realizes that they're in the half-shattered dome of the cockpit.

"I couldn't check your injuries in that awful purple light, so I moved you here," Dick supplies, handing Jason a flask of water, and asks, "How are you feeling?"

Dick is waiting patiently while Jason sips, revitalizing his dry throat, so he's confused when Dick asks if he's still thirsty, until an electronic mix of gurgling and screeching follows Dick's words. The question is for Rippling-flow then, who probably answers in the negative, seeing as Dick sits down next to Jason instead of heading off. Dick lifts Rippling-flow into his own lap after the child tries to clamber onto Jason's.

Swallowing a final mouthful of water, Jason recaps the flask and finally answers, "Not so bad, considering. No dizziness, although I've got a killer migraine and the rest feels like bruises."

Dick hums, then asks the child in his lap if Rippling-flow would let him check on Mr. Red here, Dick is worried about his health. Both Dick and Jason watch in amusement as the child glares at Jason, before jumping out of Dick's loose hold and dashing for the entryway, screeching loudly.

Dick smirks, relaying that Rippling-flow is bringing Jason more water, since "he's obviously not fine without water, silly."

Then Dick shifts to kneel in front of Jason, wanting to check for concussion, he assumes, based on how Dick reaches for his head, but Jason's eyes catch on the gaping hole in the dome and he takes a moment before following Dick through the procedures. They're familiar enough with the process that multitasking is no problem, so Jason speaks.

"Thanks for the patch job, but, uh," he gestures at the wreck of spacecraft surrounding them. "Mind catching me up? I notice we're alive even without all the life-saving space gear."

"Well, the quick run-down is that we crashed, the ship's too damaged to fly, but enough survived that the water-condenser is still functional and I think we can probably get an SOS going, though we'll have to watch out for energy depletion," Dick reports. "The planetary readings from my gear - bless WayneTech labs - indicate that we have oxygen, slightly denser than Earth, due to relatively increased gravitational force, and also that the red and yellow death clouds above us are probably small dust-like particles rather than killer gasses. Hence our survival without life-saving space gear as you say." Satisfied with his assessment of Jason's state, Dick sighs in quiet relief and sits back on his heels, though he continues to cup Jason's face in his ungloved left hand. Jason leans into the soft touch, returning Dick's gentle smile with one of his own.

Dick glances at the bandages wrapped around Jason's head, before continuing, "Your breathing mask and comms were smashed between the floor and your face when we hit. You have lots of cuts from the broken pieces and a few shallow stab wounds from the sharper bits. Luckily nothing that I couldn't clean and handle, but we're running low on first aid supplies - I nabbed yours so no, you don't have more - I had to use almost the rest on Eenksiki.

"He's sleeping right now," Dick says somberly, retaking his place next to Jason, lightly leaning against his side. "Got a deep gash down one side of his back, but it missed his spinal ridge, so I'm hopeful." In a lighter tone, he continues, "Eesiik hasn't left his side, even though she's terrified of the dark. I lent her your flashlight, and Chloe stayed to keep her company after letting me know you woke up. They're great kids."

Jason chuckles quietly. "Kids have always been better at getting along. Even with a language barrier, which explains why you make friends with basically everyone," he teases.

"Is that so?" Dick interrogates, playfully raising an eyebrow. "Well, we've only got one Universal translator now, so I really hope so. Only the one mask too."

Then he hesitates.

"You might have noticed Chloe wearing my breathing mask?" Dick asks, tentatively.

"No, she ran off before I saw her," Jason recalls, "but I _do_ notice _you're_ not wearing it. So why's Chloe need it?"

Dick is silent for a beat and waits until Jason meets his gaze before speaking again. "I'm hoping the mask will let her live longer."

Jason scowls. "Explain."

"...when I checked the atmospheric readings," Dick begins, "I learned that the red and yellow bits that make up the clouds up there aren't toxic, they're just dirt and dust suspended in the sky, but there's another collection of particles - small enough we can't see - that will build up in our airways and cause damage. The computers predicted that they'll be lethal to humans eventually, though it seems like the Keiisik and the Fluvians are a little more durable than we are. The calculation was a few years, but there's very little data, mostly it was just cross-comparisons with the closest known composites, so I'm not certain how long."

Silence reigns for seconds that stretch to eternity. Numbly, Jason hears himself ask, "Chance of rescue?"

He doesn't know why he asks. He knows the answer. The computers in their gear don't recognize many parts of this planet, and those are updated to have more details about the universe than the database of the green space cops. Dick's voice trickles into his consciousness through a cotton fog.

"Unlikely, since we're in the part of space no one we know has been to, apparently. But we can send out repeated SOS signals and hope."

Hope, huh. Jason recognizes the resignation growing inside himself. He can't help but resent the hope he'd held before this mission. That it had been futile to dream of a future tied together, that he could have fixed himself so he was good enough for this marvelous being by his side. He laughs at himself bitterly in his mind.

Abruptly, he finds himself wrapped in Dick' arms, and after a moment's surprise, he returns the hug, gripping tight.

"Hey, c'mon," Dick encourages, "We've made it through hard times before. And... I know it's hard for you to wait and believe that the others will save us. I get it, I really do. But this time, we've got each other." Jason holds his breath. He exhales. They _will_ have each other. This isn't the end. He's still got a chance.

"Yeah," he breathes, slipping a hand into his pocket and gripping the red, blue, and silver ring inside, "I'll figure it out."

***

It's been two weeks and no sign of rescue. Two weeks, and Jason sits in front of a three-day old grave.

It was dug under the open sky, on the top of the tallest hill that could be found within eyesight of the wreck. Sometimes, the red-yellow clouds clear at night and the stars blink brightly from lightyears away. This hill is the closest any one of them could get to home.

Staring listlessly up at the sky now, Jason thinks he's a little scared and homesick too. Just the way Eenksiki was when the infection-feverish child had breathed his last breaths, sobbing, terrified of dying, and desperately missing the safety and comforts of home.

Jason had tightly clutched Eenksiki's hand, feeling inadequate while tears carved their way down his face as he promised the child in insufficient translation that he was not alone. This child would not die alone. Jason would not allow it.

But all of a sudden it wasn't Eenksiki dying from irrecoverable injuries in a foreign land. It was sharp, burning pain, and torn red, green, and gold, and the echoes of laughing, laughing, laughing, and a final burst of searing, breathless heat. And when Jason snapped back into focus and looked away from the cooling blue of Dick's eyes-

Eenksiki was gone. Far, far away and _Jason hadn't been there_.

He tore himself from Dick's grasp, hunching over on himself, and screamed soundless wails as he grabbed at fistfuls of dark hair. He hadn't been good enough, hadn't been strong enough, hadn't _been enough_ and a child died alone.

Now Jason sits in front of a three day old grave. His cuts are healing well. He'll have scars, but he's uninfected and alive. A stiff breeze picks up and blows dry dust around the burial.

He stares up at the sky, and a glowing star burning especially bright catches his eye. He thinks about home and the brilliant people who are strong enough to be there for others. He thinks about Dick and Kory and Barbara and Roy and all the other heroes who are strong enough to save others even as they fall themselves.

And, _Oh_ , he thinks, _that's where I fall flat. I'm not good enough to help the ones around me when it matters_.

Jason stands, looking down at his disturbed dirt beneath his feet. He inhales harshly, scrunching up his face, and holds for a moment before exhaling loudly and lifting his head to gaze sightlessly into the distance. He wants a cigarette.

It's been three weeks since the burial, and the days have passed in a bit of a blur while Jason works on autopilot. He knows Dick's been keeping track of their physical states. He thinks they have maybe six years left. Jason thinks maybe he has less than that, thinks the smoking habit he'd had is coming back to bite him in the ass. Dick doesn't believe that, but Jason mentally ticks off another check on the list of his personal shortcomings. How laughable that he'd ever hoped to be good enough. He can't even save himself, let alone be a supportive partner.

During the intervening time, they've also had no choice but to seed and grow what crops they can from plant-like existences they've managed to forage on this planet. They'd cleared away interspersed shrubbery that secreted acids into the soil, cleared away long grasses that reach above their heads, and tilled the low hills that cover this area of the planet. They haven't strayed far, unable to risk losing the ship. They can also only grow so many crops. Hopefully the nutrients are the right kind for everyone.

Overall, it's pretty dry. It rains, but the water isn't safe for drinking. An SOS message is sent out intermittently, but they save as much energy as they can so they can use the ship to condense drinking water for their use as long as possible.

Physical exertion and heavy breathing aren’t good for them, but they have no choice. The mask Dick gave Chloe, in hopes that the filter will help her, seems to be working, at least a little. She isn't deteriorating as quickly as they are in any case. Hopefully the kids will live long enough for rescue.

Five and a half weeks later, and Jason finds Eesiik leaned against the stone marking Eenksiki's grave after a frantic hour long search when everyone thought the child went missing. He brings Dick to an unobtrusive distance from where the grieving child is, saying he wants to give light where he thinks the child has none. And Dick gazes at the child and at Jason and then goes a little distant, as if in recollection, before depositing the surviving comm into Jason's palm and clasping his hand with both of his own.

With a determined glint in his eye, Dick says, "I think right now you might be the best choice to reach Eesiik, if you're willing. And of course, I will be with you every step of the way."

Jason stares at the child huddled against the unforgiving stone and something in his heart clicks. Suddenly, the sight sparks a flame back to life in his chest, and all at once, a muddied circular blur of red, blue, and silver flashes through his mind. As the image comes into focus, he thinks it can mean something new now. A first step to being good enough to support others, and maybe, to being good enough for himself.

He nods at Dick, whispering, "Yeah, with your help, I think I'd like to try."

***

The day is cloudy, as it is for most of the planetary year, and cold enough to encourage all members of the family to shelter within the home. They've converted the transparent dome that used to be the cockpit into a greenhouse, and a few cycles of trial-and-error over the past couple of years allowed them to optimize the growth of edibles.

Jason's lungs seize and he pauses where he's crouched in front of the rhizomes he'd dug up for lunch. He holds his breath, keeping his chest inflated. Glancing at Dick - who's washing the dirt off of the apiaceae over the new crop growth - Jason wills him not to look this way, knowing that the jerking that comes with trying to suppress his coughs will give him away.

It's futile.

Another squeeze of his airways and Jason is hacking up a lung. It hurts. Out of sheer habit he clamps a hand over his mouth. His eyes tear up and he can't breathe and his chest aches as coughs grate over this throat. The part of his brain not engaged with trying to survive this latest bout of wheezing manages to process a worried exclamation and a warm presence arriving at his side. He tries to focus on the firm pressure of a palm against his back, and eventually, his coughing subsides. He pants loudly, catching his breath, listening to Dick's soothing reassurances.

When he removes his hand from his face, he finds it dirt-smeared and flecked with saliva and blood.

He tears up again, but for wholly different reasons.

"Heh," Jason croaks despondently, "Just when I thought I was making progress, I'm failing in a completely different way."

Dick eases Jason into sitting on the dirt, between the rows of rhizomes, and presses a flask of water against Jason's lips.

"Drink," he orders, "then we can talk."

It's a bit of a lie. Dick wets a clean cloth and hands it to Jason to clean his dirt-and-blood smudged face, watching carefully for the absence of any hitches in Jason's breathing before he's assured enough for a talk.

Jason leans against Dick, happy to seek comfort where he hadn't always, what seems so long long ago.

"What's on your mind, Jay?" Dick returns the pressure against Jason's side, gazing forward instead of at him, in that exact way that makes it easier for Jason's words to flow.

A moment passes, and Jason suddenly can't hold back his slew of confessions. "I'm sorry I'm sick now. That I didn't stop- that I- I'm so afraid I'm going to be leaving you without any help-"

"Jason," Dick interrupts, "You couldn't have known this would happen, and smoking is a hard habit to kic-"

"But it's making it worse, and I wanted to get better. I wanted to be good enough for you. I wanted to help you, to be strong enough to support _you_ , the way you support everyone else. So much, and. I thought- I was so close after these few years and now I'm failing again. I'm so sorry."

Dick hums, waits a beat, and when Jason doesn't speak again, shifts to kneel behind Jason and draws him backwards to lean against his chest, wrapping his arms around Jason in a comfortably loose hug.

"I'm happy you told me," Dick begins, and presses a kiss against Jason's temple. "But I think I have a different opinion.

"Jason, you haven't failed. You've been helping me, supporting me, by letting me be a part of your life. And- no, I mean it, I'm not just spouting a cheesy line, hush and just listen for a bit, please." Dick gathers his thoughts, and says, "Did you know I'd gone to therapy before? Way back when, at the time of the Titans. I owed it to the people I wanted to help. How would I be able to help everyone else if I wasn't at my best? But somehow I lost sight of all that." He pauses. "I lost sight after. After Donna. And Bludhaven, and Kory, and Babs, and well. You know, especially now I hope, how much I fought with Bruce. Something was broken, inside me. And somehow, it became important that no one else would see that. How would I be able to help everyone if they couldn't trust me because I didn't _look like_ I was at my best? I realize now that I was on a downward spiral. I was falling.

"And then, you became a close part of my life. You were struggling, but you let me see that. I saw, at least it looked this way to me, that it was hard, at first, when you hurt so much, to spare a helping hand to anyone else, or even to sympathize with anyone else's struggle. And that's right. That's how it should be, I think. But you healed, gradually, and I'm so happy you let me be a part of that; and as you healed, you had the strength to spare to reach out, help others. And really be _there_ for them, the way _I couldn't_ with the broken parts of myself that I had hidden away. And you inspired me.

You were my inspiration. You supported me by being in my life, and _I_ wanted to heal too. To keep up with you. To be good enough for _you_.

So I cannot accept your apology because you shouldn't have one to give."

Jason leans back against the cool metal of the spacecraft, home for the past four years, and watches the pale circle that is this planet's sun rise above the horizon. He holds his precious ring, red and blue intertwined and set in silver, in his left hand, absently running his finger along familiar grooves. It's time, he thinks, to use the strength that Dick said inspired him, despite how limited his time is left.

He hears quiet footsteps, definitely not belonging to any of the kids, and takes a careful deep breath, testing the flow of air into his lungs. He doesn't want any interruptions, whether from his own body, or from the children, no matter how much he cherishes them.

A moment later and Dick joins him in the early dawn, dimmer than the ones they grew up in, but bright enough, all the same.

"It's early and you weren't anywhere in the house," Dick says, with a pout. "I got a bit worried, Jason."

A small smile graces Jason's face, and he faces Dick, turning a palm up, the ring glinting in the pale light. Dick's eyes grow wide, and his hands come up to clasp tight around Jason's, while his eyes lift to meet Jason's own gaze.

"Y'know, I was gonna ask you to marry me," Jason says.

"Was?" Dick repeats, searching Jason's face.

"Back on earth, I thought I needed to become good enough first. I thought..." Jason tentatively admits, "I thought I wasn't good enough somehow and that was why you hadn't asked me yet. Everyone else said that... you... weren't shy about proposing." A gasp interrupts Jason and "No, Dick, I-"

"I'm so sorry Jason!" Dick lets go of Jason's hand only to engulf him in an embrace. "If I knew-! I didn't ask because- because I'd failed twice before already. With Kory. With Barbara. There was something wrong with _me_! I'm the one that needed to get good enough for you. I'm so sorry I've hurt you for so long."

Jason wraps his own arms around Dick and squeezes tight. "Dick, no," he says steadily, "Nothing is wrong with you."

"But-"

"I'll prove it," Jason declares, pulling back just enough to look Dick in the eyes. "Marry me, Dick. Skip the engagement part and marry me, if that's okay with you."

Dick splutters, "We have no officiant, only one ring-"

"And if that's enough for you, it's more than enough for me," Jason reaffirms.

A few seconds drift by in silence, as Dick stares up at Jason in wonder.

"I should have remembered that you're a romantic, Jay," Dick says, keeping a firm hold on Jason, as if afraid he'd disappear, before the most enchanting smile forms on Dick's countenance. "Yes. Marry me, Jason. So long as we both shall live?"

"Yeah," Jason smiles back. "So long as we both shall live."

He draws Dick back into a tight embrace and leans forward, meeting Dick's lips with his own, the both of them framed against the grey sky, like intertwining red and blue set in an endless loop of silver.

"And for however long after."

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Ash for wonderful beta work.


End file.
